The Last Night
by Izabella
Summary: Gilbert goes to war, leaving Anne behind at PEI. Different plot than the movie! A little mushy with some innuendo - sorry to offend anyone.
1. Default Chapter

Anne busied herself around the house, focusing all her attention on the details, in an attempt to temporarily blind herself from the coming separation. A casual observer wouldn't have noticed anything strange in the way she diligently cracked each egg over the bowl, taking care not to let any of the yoke touch her fingers, or the way she remembered to take the pot off the stove at the exact second the timer went off, or the absence of any color in her face.

But someone who knew Anne Blythe more intimately would be slightly unsettled by her behavior. Anne was a dreamer. A mature woman of twenty-five, she burned more meals and spilled more eggs on herself than one would expect of a child of ten. Though she had quieted down in the years elapsing after her childhood, her imagination was as active as ever, and, as she used to tell Marilla long ago, commonplace things like stirring cake batter could hardly be strictly tended to when one was imagining what sorts of conversations the spirits of the tall willows outside the window might be having.

This precise problem had led to the spoiling of a number of dinners and desserts for poor Gilbert. Privately, though, he loved Anne all the more for her quirky ways, and would willingly have sacrificed a hundred plum puffs for one sly glance at his young wife while she was dreaming. The light flush that would spread over her cheeks, the slight parting of her lips in half uttered smile, and the gradual widening of her deep gray eyes were the food that he lived on. Surely no man was as lucky as he; surely he would awake from this dream at any moment.

But after three rapturous months, that dream had not shattered. She was still his Anne. No, it was not a lack of love on the part of husband or wife that had ruffled their waters. It was a war. Their three month honeymoon was, the very next morning, to be cut short, perhaps forever in this world. At dawn, Gilbert would leave for the battle front, where he would be caring for wounded soldiers, at no small risk to his own life.

But he was more worried for her than he was for himself. Since he found out the date of his deployment about a week ago, she had been acting very strangely. He hadn't meant to tell her at first, but she had read it on his face in a moment.

She had been much more attentive to her household duties, and even somewhat detached from him in those past few days. But he heard her choked sobs deep in the night, when she supposed him to be long asleep, and longed to comfort her. He knew her nature, though, and understood that detaching herself and throwing herself completely into menial tasks were her only defense mechanisms. A weaker man would have felt snubbed, but Gilbert's sense of her love was only intensified by it.

When Gilbert came home that night, he thought that Anne had never looked so beautiful. Her hair was draped loosely over her shoulder, and it reflected the golden glow of the sunset. Did anyone in all the land have such slender, feminine arms, with such graceful curves? He highly doubted it.

He had entered the house quietly, and she was concentrating so hard on cooking that she didn't at first notice him. Suddenly the timer went off. Anne reached to take the other pot off the stove, and in doing so knocked over the glass bowl in which she had been mixing the batter. It fell to the ground and shattered, splattering eggs and flower all over the floor. Her shoulders heaved, and Gilbert noticed a single helpless tear slide down her cheek as she turned to clean up the mess.

It was then that she saw him. He meant to walk over and kiss her as he did every night when he came home from work, but the expression of her eyes, which were filled with such overwhelming love and unspeakable sadness all at once, made him stop in his tracks.

His breath was cut short. 'Til that instant, he had not known it possible to love another person so deeply, so intimately, and with such increasing passion from one moment to the next, as he felt for her. He was taken aback by the feeling of it.

"Anne," he said softly, looking at her with infinite tenderness. He went to her and drew her into him protectively, kissing her forehead and running his fingers through her hair. At this sudden embrace, her defenses fell, and she was once more a child, soaking his shirt with her tears, her chest heaving violently against his shoulder.

"Gil, my heart will break," she sobbed.

He answered by tightening his grip on her, as if challenging any power to come between them. They stood this way for several minutes. Then Anne grew calm and looked up at him.

"I'm so sorry, Gil," she began. "I'm the worst wife in the world, to lose myself like that, when it's you that actually has to, that's going to – "

Gilbert covered her mouth with a kiss. "Hush. It's as hard for you as for me, if not harder. Now," he began more lightly, "come sit down on my lap, Queen Anne, and we are going to forget all our woes and pretend we are two careless teenagers gallivanting about Avonlea again."

Anne laughed bitterly as he lowered himself into the chair and hoisted her onto his lap, never once letting go of her. "I wish I could, Gil."

When she looked up at him, the joking expression had left his eyes, and was replaced momentarily by a strange, almost pleading one. She understood what it meant.

_Help me, Anne. Be strong for me. I can't do this alone. I need you._

She took a deep breath and reached for his hand, bringing it to her lips. "You'll have to let me go soon unless you want to eat a cold dinner," she said playfully.

"I have enough carrots in front of me right now to make a year's worth of dinners," he murmured, kissing her head, and drawing her closer to him. Anne laughed girlishly at the old joke, as she ran her fingers gently up and down his arm.

"Seriously, Gil, I worked hard on this dinner. Now you may not get a dessert," she said, sighing at the mess on the floor, "but I mean for you to have the best supper as ever there was on your last night in town."

She started to move off of him, but he clung to her hand and followed her over to the stove, as if he feared she would vanish if he let go of her.

The two ate their dinner outside on a small wooden bench under the very willows that had caused Anne to ruin so many previous meals. This one, though, was perfect. Anne sat nestled in Gilbert's lap – he wouldn't have it any other way, and they took turns feeding each other, laughing like children when one would put too big a spoonful in the other's mouth.

A casual observer would not have noticed anything unusual in the picture, though he might have felt a jolt of envy of the intimate affection that sprung forth so plentifully from every expression on their young faces. But if one looked more closely, he or she might have noticed a cloud that occasionally covered Gilbert's face, and that whenever this happened, the red haired girl would wrap her arms more tightly around him and whisper something in his ear which would promptly bring a smile to his face.

Soon the sun slipped beneath the horizon and Anne began to shiver. Gilbert gathered her closer to him. "Shall we go upstairs?"

Anne smiled, and the two entered the house, arm in arm, and made their way up the staircase. Later they lie in bed quietly. Gilbert was stretched out on his back, and Anne was curled up against his side, her head resting on his bare chest. She was tracing figures on his stomach with her fingers.

"What are you doing?" he asked, planting a kiss on her brow.

"I'm writing my name on your stomach, so you'll be sure not to forget me when you are surrounded by all those beautiful young nurses."

Gilbert laughed, but Anne heard the sadness and the fear in it, and prayed God would give her the power to comfort him.

"Gil," she said suddenly, fighting back a sudden urge to cry, "you'll come back to me, won't you?"

"You know I will, Anne-girl."

"But I don't know it, Gilbert, and it's not fair!" she cried, unable to control herself any longer. "You have to come back – you don't understand – you can't leave me here like this, when I'm, when I'm going to have…" she trailed off.

Gilbert sat up suddenly, pulling her up with him. He put his hands around her face and wiped the tears away. Then he looked very closely into her eyes. "What are you trying to tell me, Anne?"

"You know it." she replied, still trembling.

Gilbert put his arm around her to steady her. A look of understanding came into his eyes, and suddenly he reached his hand down and rested it shakily on her stomach. It was her turn to steady him; she put her hand on top of his, gently squeezing it.

"Now do you see why you have to come back?" she asked.

He was overcome with emotion. "Anne," was all he could say, as they slid back under the covers, kissing each other feverishly, with new born passion.

The hours sped away as the two clung to each other, and gradually Anne's eyes closed and her breathing deepened. Gilbert stared at her, mesmerized by her beauty, and by the life that was growing inside of her. Thus the night passed away, until the birds began to chirp, and a pinkish flush shone through the window.

"Dearest, it's time," he said, brushing his lips across her forehead.


	2. The Interim

**A/N: I know I said initially that this story was a one-shot, but it ended up that I couldn't help adding on to it. Should be 3 chapters total, when completed. This is how I imagine things would have realistically gone down had Gilbert actually had to go to war. Please r & r! Thank you :)

* * *

**

_Dearest Gil,_

_I wonder if it would be wiser not to mention this, for fear of appearing less attractive in those dark brown eyes of yours, but I've grown so fat I can barely reach over the table to write this letter. If kicking is any indication, your child has made it clear that he will be every bit as feisty as his adoring mother. I shall bear anything, though, so long as his hair is not red. Excuse my presumption of his gender, but I feel in my bones that we are to have a son, Gil, and I feel even more strongly that he should be named after his courageous father. What does his courageous father think of his enormous mother's idea?_

_Be assured we are all well here in Avonlea. So well, in fact, that I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't have married Diana instead of you. She was, after all, the Bride of my Dreams. But I suppose Fred mightn't have liked that very much. I'm so glad I ended up coming to stay with Diana in Avonlea. I know I had made up my mind that I'd stay at our House o' Dreams, but you can't imagine how depressing it was there all alone, Gil. The house itself even seemed to miss you. Also, you have no idea how taxing this whole baby process can be. Diana, naturally, has been the sweetest nurse I could ever ask for._

_Gil, I am thinking of you every moment, and praying for you just as often. I feel as if my heart has been stretched clear across the Atlantic – but don't fear – should it have to stretch across all the seas in the world, it would be well suited for the challenge. _

_Not a day goes by but I hear some new horror story about the muddy state of the front, so I have sent, along with this letter, a package full of thick socks. I apologize in advance for their lumpiness – sewing is quite difficult when you can barely see over your own stomach – but at least they're warm. _

_I love you more every minute, and my heart aches with pride for all the good you are doing. I will see you soon – I and a certain little man, whom I feel might leap out of my stomach at this moment if I don't stop writing this letter and turn onto my side._

_Love always,  
Your very love-sick, very devoted, and very pregnant lady,  
Anne _

When he had read the letter over several times, as he did with all Anne's letters, so that it was imprinted in his memory, he carefully folded it and slipped it into his pocket. His heart was throbbing with a thousand powerful emotions – excitement, sorrow, warmth, anxiety, but most powerfully, as always: love. Love for his beautiful wife, magnified a thousand times by each adorable word she had written, and for his unborn child.

He pulled the letter out of his pocket and smelled it, desperate to find a trace of her scent. He softly kissed the page, knowing that her own hand must have touched it only days before. He had known, when he was leaving her, that it would be hard, the hardest thing he'd likely ever have to do, but he had not known it would be like this. He could not have anticipated the throbbing ache that came to reside permanently in his chest, or the sharp lump in his throat that would probe him whenever he thought of his Anne, which was always – but most surprising, he found, was the quiet strength he received from her. It really was as if her heart had stretched over the wide ocean and was warming his, so that even as he slumped through the cold, muddy trenches, stitching gruesome wounds, seeing a thousand horrors every minute, somewhere deep inside, he was comforted. He felt that comfort even now, as the screams of his fellow soldiers echoed all around him, and the world suddenly went black…

* * *

Anne had been so busy running errands with Diana all morning, that for the first time since Gilbert's departure, she was not at the post office at exactly 2:00, when the letters were delivered. The ladies had been taking care of all the last minute purchases for the baby, which was due any day now. It had been a truly delightful day – one of the few bright spots in the girls' lives since their husbands had gone off to the front. 

The ache was still there, a subtle throb in her heart, constant as ever, but it had been somewhat subdued in the last hours, as the mother-to-be and her bosom friend picked out various baby toys, bonnets, and anything else they felt Anne's child would absolutely demand upon entering the world. But when Anne glanced down at her watch and saw that it was nearly 2:30, she dropped everything at once, and began running towards the post office.

"Anne Blythe, slow down!" Diana cried, running after her. "That baby is going to fall out of you!"

But she would not be delayed. Breathlessly, she asked the attendant for her letter.

"Here you are, Mrs. Blythe," the woman answered, handing Anne a thin envelope. "My goodness, child," she said, marveling at Anne's rather large stomach, "you must be due any moment now! Mrs. Wright, how can you let her run about this way in her condition!"

Diana laughed. "I do try to keep her under control, but you know Anne – when she has her mind set on something, there is no stopping her."

The two women chuckled, oblivious to the ghostlike expression that had crept over Anne's face.

"Diana, would you step outside with me please?" Anne said very calmly, with perfect annunciation.

Diana followed her outside curiously. "What is it, Anne? Are you alright?"

Though Anne could control her voice tone, her hand was shaking rather violently.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just…Could you tell me what this means? I can't quite make it out."

Diana looked down at the white card Anne was holding. The black print was somewhat smeared by Anne's sweaty fingerprints.

_We regret to inform you that Officer Blythe has been listed as Missing in Action. Should we receive any information concerning his status, we will notify you directly._

Diana reached for Anne's hand and was shocked at how cold it was. But Anne instantly withdrew it and rested it shakily on her swollen stomach.

"That one line – 'Should we receive any information' – what does that mean, Diana? '_Should_ we'? What if they should _not_? It doesn't say anything about that! What if that's all the information they ever receive, that he's gone, that he's missing, what if that's it, Diana, what will they do then? It doesn't say! Is there a phone number, please, or an address on the card, anywhere? There has to be – oh, God!" she cried, clutching her stomach.

"Anne, Anne, calm down, you know you're not supposed to get excited…Anne, are you alright?"

For Anne had slumped to the ground, crippled with the sharp pain of a contraction. Diana recognized what her friend was feeling at once and called for help.

* * *

Much later that night, a pale faced Anne lay on a pile of pillows with a little lady wrapped in her arms. Diana sat quietly in a chair beside the bed, marveling at her bosom friend. Though Diana already had two children, she felt that in this childbirth, Anne had surpassed her in some way. Fred had always been at Diana's side through the ordeal, but Anne had been all alone. Looking down at her, Diana marveled at the expression on her face; it was a look of solemn radiance.

"I know what I'm going to call her," Anne said weakly, gently stroking the baby's thin, soft hair.

"What?"

"Joyce. Because in this cruel, hostile world, where bad, terrible things – " she inhaled deeply, fighting the urge to cry. Diana reached over and squeezed her hand. After a few moments, breathing deeply, she went on.

"My little baby is a spot of joy in this world. And we will have to tell her, Diana, we will have to remind her every day of how happy her parents were, for that short time, how deeply in love – what joy it was…" she broke off again, silent tears running down her face.

"Anne, don't talk that way," Diana said soothingly. "He'll be back. And you two can tell little Joyce yourselves, or rather you can show her, because you'll be happy like that again, just like Fred and I will be. But now you need to rest."

* * *

The days, weeks, and months went by, bringing the war to an end, and Fred back home to his wife, but there was still no word from Gilbert. Even so, Anne faithfully wrote him a letter every day, meticulously describing each development, no matter how small, of their little dimpled lady, trying, with all the power in her, to sound joyful. If somehow the letters got to Gil, she had to make sure they were happy; she couldn't afford to add any pain to his life.

_Dearest,_

_What do you think? She's taken to smiling whenever I come in the room. And when I hold her close to me at night, telling her stories of you and I as children – how long ago that was! – she even laughs. She has your eyes, Gil, big, brown, filled with laughter and joy. _

_We get on very quietly here at Green Gables. Diana begged me to stay with her, but after Fred returned, I felt like an intruder. I am happier here anyway, and I still see Diana nearly every day. The old place is rather lonely at times, but I have such sweet memories to comfort me, and of course I have our Joyce, who is a constant source of happiness. Marilla and Matthew would have been overjoyed to know that I was living here with our daughter. Davy Keith has been very helpful with the farm. His wife is the most adorable thing I ever set my eyes on, save our little lady, of course._

_I miss you and love you more deeply every moment, Gil, and am constantly imagining your return. Even Joyce misses you; she looks almost sad, at times – if such a thing is possible for a sweet, cheerful baby – when we are visiting with the Wright family. But I tell her every day how brave her handsome Daddy is, and how, when he returns, any day now, he will lift her up in his arms, kiss each of her tiny dimples. I tell her how she can't imagine the feeling of warmth, security, and love, that one feels when held tightly in the arms of Gilbert Blythe._

_I spend nearly all my waking time imagining that feeling, and dream sweetly of it every night._

_Love,  
Your faithful ladies,  
Anne and Joyce Blythe _

Eventually little Joyce learned to stand on her own, and then to take a wobbly step, and soon she was a full fledged walker. Anne informed Gil of everything concerning their daughter. But as the months passed, she began to wonder, deep inside, if anything could be worse than this wretched blindness that was turning quickly into hopelessness...


End file.
